Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…


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Nothing comes from nothing (except perhaps the universe), and nothing comes from a day of relative leisure.  Although there was work done (though nowhere near as much as I promised myself – as I always do – that I would do.  A shed was erected in the backyard, you see, and this shed will be the repository, the depository, the place of cataloguing expository, for many of my books, as well as other stuff around the house.  Which means that soon I will have to document what I have, soon I will have to list and take stock of tomes both read and unseen, soon I will ensure – assuming that I find a way to carry the list around with me that is convenient (putting it on my phone, perhaps, though I think that might be a little difficult, as I doubt my phone would have the proper software, though surely it could get it…) – that I will never buy a book a second time unless I mean to.  Yes, I’m looking at you Ludmila’s Broken English, sitting there on my floor across from the bed.


Written by epistemysics

October 26, 2013 at 1:56 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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